


Post-victory collapse

by robotunicorncastiel



Category: Football RPF, German NT RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, Extramarital Affairs, FIFA World Cup 2014, First Time, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Post-Achievement Depression, Rutting, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotunicorncastiel/pseuds/robotunicorncastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lukas has a case of post-achievement blues. Bastian is still riding the wave of euphoria after the final. Somehow they meet in the middle - still the Duo Infernale, after all this time.</p>
<p>Schweinski with mentions of (going downhill) Lukas/Monika, (surprisingly well-adjusted) Bastian/Sarah and (harmlessly cute) Neuer/Kathrin, plus special appearances and mentions of some random other German NT players. Teamgeist, baby. ;*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is true, all fictional, I don't know these people and probably never will, no harm intended, don't sue me, etc.

_What am I doing with my life,_  Lukas thinks as he checks his Twitter feed for the umpteenth time that night. The party keeps going around him, music blasting from the loudspeakers as his Weltmeister buddies let it loose on the dance floor. Oddly, since he'd come back to the hotel's main floor after saying goodnight to Louis, Lukas couldn't bring himself to mingle with them, opting instead to stand against a pillar and watch the action from a few feet away. He tries taking a few pictures, but they come out too dark and blurred to be worthy of an Instagram update (he keeps them anyway). It's 3:17 a.m. now and both his inbox and Whatsapp conversations are filled to the brim with congratulatory messages from old friends, family, work connections and his mates from Arsenal and his previous clubs - but Monika has yet to send a word, and he hates himself for letting it get to him. He secretly wonders if she even watched the match; if she had watched any of the matches on the days Louis wasn't with her.

 

He tries to keep his mind busy by burying himself on his Twitter mentions, but they're coming at a faster pace than he can follow and about half of them are in Portuguese, so it's a relief when he sees his best friend coming down the hall and crossing the dance floor.

" _Prrriiiiiinz Poooooldi_ ", Bastian sing-songs as he approaches him, drink in hand. Lukas ponders how many caipirinhas came before that one; judging by the swagger in the Bavarian's steps, that number must be in the double digits by now. He leans beside Lukas against the pillar and looks at the phone screen over his shoulder, any concept of personal space thrown out the window (as if they'd ever acknowledged the  _existence_  of personal space between them at some point over the last ten years). "What are you d-- ugh, I can't  _believe_  you", Bastian grumbles, taking his friend's phone away.

"Hey!", Lukas protests, making for the phone as Bastian hides it behind his back.

 

"You have an  _addiction_ , Twitter-head", and Bastian's shaking his head and laughing drunkenly, using his other arm as a shield and struggling not to spill his strawberry caipirinha all over his friend's shirt. He's not putting a lot of effort into battling Lukas' hands away, his own hand holding the iPhone firmly tucked between his spine and the cold cement of the pillar.

The truth is, Lukas doesn't even care all that much about retrieving his phone. If anything, he welcomes the distraction - it was starting to feel like he'd reached the end of the Internet when Basti arrived. But if fighting for the phone means having a decent excuse to roughhouse a little with his best pal against a hard surface, well. He can do that.

"Give it back, jerkface."

"I will, but first I have an indecent proposal for you." If Bastian's usual shit-eating grin falters for a moment, Lukas just assumes it's because their faces are too close to each other and he's seeing things that are not there.

"What kind of proposal?"

He's definitely seeing things that are not there, because he can swear Basti's eyes dart to his lips before he says, "How offended are you going to be if I invite you to my room?"

_He's drunk_ , Lukas reminds himself, his feet planted firmly on the ground of reality. "For what?", he asks, playing innocent.

Bastian's not falling for the coyness strategy. "You  _know_ ", he rolls his eyes, then raises his eyebrows and gives his friend's torso a quick but appreciative once-over, "to celebrate." And as if his message wasn't completely clear by now, Bastian tilts his hips forward against Lukas', resting his wrists on the other's hipbones. "People say all kinds of things already, we might as well live up to them."

His phone is right there beside him; Lukas could just take it back and push Basti away. Instead, he gapes at Basti for what feels like a lifetime with Basti's drink resting against the top of his left butt cheek, the cup's condensation seeping through the polyester of his shorts. At long last he manages to laugh, following the advice of the chorus inside his head that keeps repeating  _he's drunk he's drunk he's drunk_.

"That's cute, my bunny, but I'm not about to become a homewrecker."  _He's drunk, Podolski. For God's sake - hell, for your own sake - play it cool._

Except it doesn't work. Bastian comes closer still, his lips almost closing around Lukas' earlobe. "If that's your only objection, Sarah's cool with it."

"... What?"

"Sarah's cool with it", he repeats it louder, probably thinking the other had just misheard him, and adds, "She thought we'd done it already. She totally doesn't care, I swear. We're awesome like that."

There's the shit-eating smirk again, followed by a shrug. Basti's hands are still by his hips, and Lukas thinks maybe he should do something about it - sure, the guys from the team are clearly past the point of caring (no thanks to all those caipirinhas), but there's hotel staff around and who knows how much friendly PDA is still  _friendly_  in their eyes, and what these people are going to say where and to whom. But as the weight of Bastian's suggestion slowly dawns on him, Lukas's brain short-circuits and he just stares back into Bastian's eyes with an expression that can only be read as panic.

It lasts long enough that his friend's face falls a bit; he clicks his tongue and gingerly slides Lukas' phone into his back pocket. "Let me guess: you don't like me that way, do you?"

There are a million things Lukas wants to say to that, but his heart is beating so loud inside his ears that he can't hear his own thoughts. It takes him so long that, before he's able to form a coherent sentence, Bastian is no longer between him and the pillar and their bodies are not touching anymore. "Sure, no hard feelings, let's forget about it", he says in a cheerful tone that sounds a hundred shades of fake, "no need to make it awkward, I just really had to ask... you know what, I'll get another one of these things. I think they make virgin ones, you wanna try it?"

"Wait,  _Schweini._ " Before his friend could escape to the open bar, Lukas comes back to planet Earth and holds the wrist of his free hand. Bastian turns to him, and all his previous signs of drunken euphoria have vanished as if on cue.  _Not as many caipirinhas as I'd thought, then_ , Lukas thinks to himself.

He sighs and looks around quickly, then finally confesses, "I  _do_. I like you that way." Seeing he has Bastian's full attention, he adds, "I like you  _too much_  that way, that's the  _problem_. You know what I'm saying?"

It's Bastian's turn to look dumbstruck. Eventually he starts to nod  _very_  slowly, eyes fixed on Lukas'. Then they hear a shriek and turn their eyes to the dance floor; a few people are there in a tight circle, examining something between them. Then a certain Thomas Müller is leaving the group and stumbling towards the two of them, laughing so much he can't even walk straight.

"Let's get out of here, before it's on us", he gets to say in-between guffaws, throwing one arm around each of their shoulders.

They half-carry the striker over to a lounge area where the team managers, a few other players and their SOs are sitting, away from the loud music. "Hey, Jogi! Guess who dropped the cup!", Thomas exclaims, and the next moment he's in stitches again, as their poor coach mumbles an " _oh Sch--_ " and dashes to the dance floor, muttering (not for the first time over the last month) something about not being paid to be a goddamned babysitter to a bunch of grown men.

"Did they damage it?", Philipp asks, his thick eyebrows so high it looks like they're about to take flight from his face.

Thomas is laughing so hard by now he's unable to answer, but he gesticulates and nods wildly, slapping the back of an armchair, so they all take it as a yes.

"Bound to happen", Per shrugs and goes back to what must be his twentieth beer of the night. Somehow it makes Thomas laugh even harder. (He was probably the one chugging down Brazilian drinks after all, instead of Bastian.)

While the rest of them are distracted by their striker's retelling of the event, Bastian closes his hand around Lukas' wrist and discreetly jerks his head towards the beach. Lukas hesitates for a moment, but then relents. Since they are opening that can of worms tonight of all nights, he might as well see where this will go.


	2. Chapter 2

They cross the deserted pool area side by side and in silence, with Basti abandoning his drink on a balustrade along the way. Gone are the scattered clouds from earlier in the day; the night sky over Rio de Janeiro is clear now, and the sea glitters with the reflection of the stars and the city lights. As the fourth hour of the morning approaches, windows lit up here and there over the Dois Irmãos hill just behind their hotel, working-class favela dwellers beginning yet another Monday while others are only now arriving from Sunday night.

 

The two footballers are halfway down the stairs that lead to the hotel's private strip of sand when Lukas feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket. He fishes it out and sure enough, there's a  _"gratulation"_  from Monika - no capitals, no punctuation, not a single emoji.

 

"Seriously? Twitter again? Damn, Luki, you need..." Bastian's protests are cut short when Lukas hands him the phone without a word. He takes longer than necessary reading the single-word text, then gives the device back with a frown. "Wanna talk about it?"

 

Lukas considers lying and saying he and Monika had grown apart, or that he hadn't seen it coming, or that he suspected she was seeing someone else. Then he considers saying the truth - how he was the one who'd been unsure about their relationship for months already, maybe over an year; how he doesn't know what or who he wants in his life anymore; how he'd been doing some deep soul-searching since hearing the news about Hitze back in January, and has yet to come to terms with the idea that maybe he likes men more than he thinks he should.

 

Instead he just says, "Not really", and Bastian nods. No other words are exchanged the rest of the way down.

 

Winter in the tropics is mild enough that the chilly sea breeze doesn't bother them; if they opt to walk close to one another, bumping shoulders along the way, it's for other reasons beyond warmth. There's no one left at the beach by now, neither fans nor people from their delegation, not even the people who were manning the projectors earlier that night. Lukas plops down heavily on the sand, and Bastian follows suit, sitting next to him. They spend a few moments watching the Atlantic ocean, with only the sound of the waves to lull their thoughts.

 

"Have you ever felt like you should be over the roof with happiness, but you're just... not?" Lukas says, breaking the silence.

 

"I must have, at some point", Bastian answers with a small shrug. Then, quietly: "Is it the thing with Monika? Or is there anything else bothering you?"

 

Lukas lets out a deep sigh. He doesn't really know where to begin. "I just... I don't know." Another sigh. "I just wish we could have another month of this."

 

Bastian says nothing, only turns his body more towards Lukas', brings his head closer. It's weird that this proximity should feel awkward after the convo they'd just had upstairs. It's weird that it doesn't feel awkward at all.

 

"I mean, we're going back home tomorrow and I don't even know if my wife will be at the airport. You'd think that'd be reason enough to feel bad, but then I start thinking about work, and wonder when Wenger will have me on the starting squad again, or if he even has a use for me on the team anymore. And then there's my fucking leg", he lets out, slapping his left thigh.

 

"Still the cramps?"

 

"Every other match. I soldier on, but..." A huff escapes the forward's nostrils. "My marriage's in shambles, my career's going nowhere, my health's a question mark.... what else? I don't owe you money, do I?"

 

Bastian's quiet laugh is followed by a feminine giggle coming from a distance; they tense up, startled, and notice two figures in a love embrace, leaning on the balustrade next to the pools overseeing the beach.

 

"It's ok, it's just Manu", Bastian tells him as he waves to the goalkeeper and his girlfriend. They wave back, then turn their attention back to each other.  _It's ok, it's just Manu_  is code for  _it's not anyone who'd give a shit even if we were rolling around naked in the waves, if anything he might actually give us cover._  "And we never really kept track of those chips I used to buy for you after training back in Munich, but I hereby release you of your debts."

 

Lukas huffs humourlessly, then lays his elbows on his knees and buries his feet deeper in the sand, knowing full well he will regret it when his tennis shoes start leaving a sandy trail indoors. He looks at Bastian's long toes and envies his striped flip-flops. "Anyway, these last few weeks..." he continues in a hushed tone, "bringing the gang together like that, spending time with you, miles away from the chaos, it was heaven. Just-- heaven. But now it's over, and I'm not even sure Jogi'll call me again next time."

 

Something that might be dread crosses Bastian's eyes. "What, has he--"

 

"He didn't  _say_  it", Lukas cuts him, "but I'm not stupid. I barely went in. I don't fit his current plan, and I don't see that changing." He sighs. "Hitze was saying it way back there in 2006, and I have to agree with him now, it kinda sucks to win something without doing anything."

 

"It's not like that and you know it. You were 100% there for all of us all the time, and knowing how some of these guys are, you deserved a medal for that alone. We didn't win the Cup by just kicking a ball for 90 minutes."

 

"Yet that's the part Adidas sees."

 

"Adidas sees your Twitter followers too. What was that hashtag again? # _FickerPodolski_?", Bastian snickers.

 

Lukas bumps his shoulder against the midfielder's. " _Fic_ _ _a__ ** _,_**  you uncultured swine. That's Portuguese for 'stay'."

 

"You see? The folks here love you. You could sign up with Flamengo. Hang a hammock on the balcony of one of those flats out there," Bastian nods towards the cluster of posh apartment buildings on the other side of the coastline, "spend the rest of your days sipping coconut water and keeping your tan. How's that for a retirement plan?"

 

"Yeah, great. Except nobody cares about the Brazilian championship, and Flamengo's hanging by a thread in  _Série_   _A_."

 

"You saved FC Köln once, you could save these guys now. Sounds right up your alley."

 

He rolls his eyes and lets his left leg fall to the side, his knee knocking on Bastian's. His left hand rests over it, palm invitingly turned upwards. "Don't you think London's far enough? It must be a 16-hour flight from Munich to here, or something like that. I don't think they even carry direct flights."

 

There's a brief pause in which Basti just stares at him, mouth slightly agape, then he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Yeah, alright, you know what, scratch Rio." He shuffles a little closer while they both look down; his fingers brush Lukas', not quite holding his outstreched hand, but the intent is there.

 

Lukas hides his face on the crook of his elbow, offering his left hand a bit more incisively. His voice comes out muffled against his arm. "I'd be happy to go back to Köln if they wanted me, but even that's up in the air by now."

 

"The numbers thing?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Bastian finally takes up on his offer and laces their fingers together. His other arm goes around Lukas' waist, and he rests his chin on the forward's shoulder, letting out a warm puff of breath against his neck. "I'm starting to believe I shouldn't let you go back to your room alone," and even though it's meant in jest, there's a tinge of sincere worry in his voice as well.

 

At least it elicits a chuckle out of Lukas, who turns to look at him. "I'm not throwing myself off the balcony. And you just want an excuse to get in my bed, admit it."

 

"I don't  _need_  excuses," he answers, repeatedly pushing his face against Lukas' shoulder just to annoy him. The shit-eating grin is back at full speed. "You love me back, you said so yourself."

 

"Aha! I said I  _liked_  you", Lukas snickers. "And stop that, you'll open the stitches."

 

Bastian gingerly rests his face on Lukas' shoulder once more, carefully avoiding the injury just under his eye. "You said you like me too much, though", he whispers softly.

 

The pace of Lukas' heartbeats increases. He looks over his shoulder, painfully aware of Basti's lips inches away from his. They're still alone except for Manu and Kathrin, far away - and her back is turned to them, and it's hard to say in the dark but the goalkeeper doesn't seem to be looking at them at all, his chin resting on top of his girlfriend's head.

 

Bastian sees what he's doing, but doesn't bring it up; instead, he plants a quick kiss on the edge of his collarbone to get his attention back.

 

"Luki?" He breathes against the fabric of Lukas' shirt.

 

"Hm?"

 

"You know it would never be just...  _casual_  between us, right?" Bastian is looking into his eyes, and in that moment Lukas is convinced there's no way this conversation won't end with a kiss. "We can't just brush aside ten years of history together like that."

 

"I know." He squeezes Bastian's hand. "But it'd still be just for one night, wouldn't it? I don't blame you, I'm just... being real here."

 

Bastian sighs and drops his head against his shoulder once more, looking out at the ocean. Maybe there won't be a kiss after all, Lukas concludes, kissing Bastian's forehead chastely and blaming himself for messing things up and denying them something special they both clearly wanted.

 

But the midfielder lifts his head a bit, runs the tip of his nose over Lukas' jawbone and whispers almost inaudibly, "If all we can have is one night, I can't think of a better night than this one."

 

It's Lukas who searches Bastian's eyes for reassurance, Lukas who presses their foreheads together and takes a deep, shivering breath; Lukas who brushes his lips against Bastian's and stays like this for what feels like forever, waiting for Bastian's reaction.

 

He feels his friend's whole body relax against his, then feathery circles being drawn on his back with a thumb as he returns the kiss. They take their time with soft caresses, tongues barely coming into play just to wet each other's lips, feeling no reason to hurry; even so, there's such a stampede hammering inside Lukas' chest that, when Bastian pulls at his lower lip with a light pressure of teeth, he can almost see his heart jumping out of his mouth and falling on the midfielder's lap.

 

"What's so funny?" Bastian says with a smirk, and only then Lukas realizes he had chuckled at his stupid mental image.

 

He doesn't have to think long to find a comeback, though, despite the nervousness. "Your  _face_  is so funny."

 

"And yet you just kissed it." Light-blonde eyebrows raised in mockery.

 

"Yeah, I did."  _And I'm about to do it again_ , Lukas thinks as he closes his eyes and finds Bastian's lips once more, relieved that they can still banter the same way they always did, even about this. They are still the  _Duo Infernale_  Schweini and Poldi, and nobody - not even themselves - is going to take that away. The thought makes him bolder, and he holds Bastian's face and deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring the other's mouth with newfound hunger. Bastian sighs encouragingly, hand creeping under Lukas' shirt and pulling him closer by the waist.

 

Eventually Lukas has to break the kiss for air. "That offer still up?", he asks with eyes still closed, their noses still touching.

 

"For you, always", Bastian nods, catching Lukas' lower lip again.

 

Getting up requires a good amount of willpower, but Lukas manages, offering a hand to help Bastian up. There's no one else by the balustrade upstairs, and he wonders whether Manu has seen anything and moved away out of modesty, or if he and his girl just went looking for privacy elsewhere. His wondering is soon interrupted by Bastian's hands pulling him into another kiss; they stumble all the way to the staircase smacking their lips and swallowing their laughs, enjoying the simple fact that they can. The newfound euphoria gives Lukas the extra boost he needs to climb the steps at a fast pace.

 

The same can't be said for Bastian, whose exhausted legs begin to drag his weight around the middle of the stairs.

 

"Come  _on_ , you old geezer", Lukas shouts at him from the topmost step. Manu and Kathrin - who, it turns out, have moved to cuddle on a pool chair - are watching this latest exchange and suppressing giggles, her phone held with its back suspiciously facing the staircase.

 

Bastian finally crawls over the last few steps and plops down prone on the stone floor, grunting something unintelligible that might have been a "why".

 

"Should I call for a stretcher?" Lukas asks, only mildly concerned.

 

"You should  _carry_   _me_ ", Basti wheezes. "Bridal style. All the way to my bed."

 

He still has strength enough in him to look up when he hears Manu snorting, though.

 

"Please tell me you're not filming."

 

"Please tell me you  _are_ , and you caught that", Lukas says to Kathrin's phone, grinning like a mad man.

 

"I am, and I did", Kathrin answers, perfectly poised, as Manu watches the screen over her shoulder and does the silent-laugh thing. Bastian lets his head fall to the floor again with a loud grunt.

 

Lukas pokes his ribs with his foot. "Come on, you lazy bastard, get up, I'm not carrying you."  _Not in front of people_ , he doesn't add.

 

After some more complaining, Bastian finally rolls on his back and accepts Lukas' extended hand. "I hate all of you", he grumbles, throwing an arm over Lukas' shoulder and making the Gunner carry half his weight anyway.

 

"Yeah, I love you too", Lukas says, rolling his eyes for the benefit of Kathrin's phone camera. She seems to be satisfied with the footage by then, and lowers the device. "I'll tuck this drunkard in to make sure he won't choke in his own vomit."

 

"See you at breakfast, Weltmeisters." The goalkeeper gives each of them a fistbump. If he has seen anything he shouldn't down at the beach, he isn't mentioning it, to which Lukas is thankful. The pair is almost at the door when he calls them again. "Oh, and Poldi? We'll send you the video for when you need blackmail."

 

"You're my favorite Bayern player, Manu", Lukas shouts back at him, and Bastian slaps the back of his head for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are penises ahead. You've been warned. (Or maybe invited.)

 

 

The walk all the way upstairs to Bastian's room (including an awkward elevator ride with some of their team mates, who either wouldn't notice or wouldn't care that Lukas didn't get out on his floor) is a torment of not daring to touch each other, lest they might broadcast their intentions to the whole hotel. It takes Bastian three attempts to unlock the door with the card key, and when he finally opens it the pair flies inside, Lukas pressing him against the nearest wall as soon as the door is closed; the Bavarian still manages to interrupt him, in fits of giggles, to hang the "Do Not Disturb" sign outside ("you don't want to risk the cleaning lady walking in on us in the morning", he explains, and Lukas is ridiculously happy about everything Bastian is implying with that).

 

The brief interruption helps them regain a bit of their composure; when they resume kissing, it's still intense but unhurried, closer to the tenderness they shared earlier on the beach. Bastian's hands explore Lukas' back leisurely, pulling him closer and raking his skin with his short nails; Lukas has a hand on his nape and another bracing himself on the wall, beside Bastian's head, and he lets out soft, deep breaths as he ravishes the midfielder's mouth.Bastian hums against Lukas' lips and tugs his red shirt up. They separate for only the strictly necessary amount of space and time for Lukas to get rid of it, then help Bastian with his own top ("careful there, that's a collector's dream", and yet the signed jersey ends up crumpled on the floor anyway). When he presses Basti against the wall again, their hearts are beating so fast Lukas actually has to make a small pause to catch his breath before attacking his lips. Their tongues battle for a while, little sighs and moans passing back and forth between their mouths, then Lukas moves on, pressing kisses over Basti's jawbone all the way to his ear."What's so funny?" It's Lukas' turn to ask, when he hears a chuckle as he sucks and pulls at his friend's earlobe."Just wondering how I'm going to explain the beard burn tomorrow.""Want me to stop?" And he will if he hears a yes, but Lukas is betting he won't.Indeed, Bastian's hands slide down to his ass and he grinds his hips against Lukas', eliciting an indignified groan from the younger man. "Don't you  _dare_ ", he growls, as if his point wasn't made clear.Lukas goes back to kissing him and lets his hand roam south, palming Basti's already hard cock over the fabric of his black shorts. Basti inhales sharply and moans, claws at his buttocks with a tighter grip."I thought you were tired?", Lukas smirks, rubbing his thumb over the tip."Not  _that_  tired", Basti answers, plunging his hands down Lukas' waistline and into his underwear, enjoying the soft roundness of his ass. "Though the bed might be a good idea.""Bed, then", he agrees, then ignores his friend's erection for a moment, brushes his hands away and wraps both arms around his waist to lift him up; Basti's legs instantly go around his hips, a reversal of their first enthusiastic embrace as world champions back on the grass at Maracanã stadium.Lukas drops Basti unceremoniously across the bed, falling over him as they laugh. It's the amusing kind of awkward, this tangle of limbs they find themselves in, and they make out and rut against each other's thighs for a while before deciding there are still too many layers of fabric between them, and concluding also that they might be better settled if they were lying on the bed the right way. Their shorts and underwear soon find themselves on the floor by the bed, and it's amazing how relaxed they are around each other's naked bodies; after all, Lukas has been seeing (and quietly admiring) every inch of Bastian's skin for ten years now, in locker rooms and shared hotel rooms, and he would be lying if he said the thought of touching him never crossed his mind. Not with the usual side hugs and body slaps and playful punches, but  _this_  kind of touching, the kind that makes him sigh with pleasure and leaves his skin tingling for more on its wake.They both turn their attention to their hard cocks, trapped between their bodies, rubbing against each other in a way that is far from enough. Basti's hand wiggles between them - oh, Basti, always the faster mind of the two - and he wraps his long fingers around them both, and it feels so good it's almost painful. Lukas raises his torso on his elbows and looks down, trying to catch a glimpse as Basti jerks them off in unison; out of the corner of his eye, he can see Basti's watching it too, a stupid, smug half-grin reaching the corner of his lips."Wanna turn on the light?", Lukas suggests on Bastian's ear, hungry for more than the vague outline of their cocks in the darkness of the moonlit bed. Bastian nods with a little moan of agreement, shifting his hand to dedicate his full attention to Lukas' dick.Lukas reaches for the nightstand lamp, blinking at the sudden burst of yellow light. He looks down at Bastian's face, his skin flushed and lips swollen, and concludes tonight is definitely in the Top 10 Best Decisions of His Life. Potentially Top 5, depending on how it ends or how awkward they'll be at breakfast."Hey, if..." Bastian whispers while Lukas' arm is still outstreched. "If you want... there's condoms and lube in the top drawer."Lukas' cock seems to be of the opinion that the night went straight to Top 3 after that, but despite being absolutely turned on by the idea of going further, the things Bastian is implying in his suggestion are a bit scary - and also a bit more complicated, psychologically and physically, than just making out and rubbing one off together."Just in case you wanted to", Bastian justifies himself hurriedly, again mistaking Lukas' wide-eyed hesitation with rejection.  "I mean,  _I_  want to.  _Hell_ , I really want to. But if you don't--"Lukas rolls his eyes, opens the nightstand drawer and reaches inside, easily finding the package of condoms and a small tube of KY. He gives Bastian a quick kiss,  then lifts up his body and kneels on the bed between Bastian's legs, dropping the condoms and the lube on his belly. "How do you wanna do this?" Lukas asks, caressing the inside of Bastian's left thigh."How do  _you_  wanna do this?", Bastian asks him back, and Lukas groans in frustration; he swipes the items off his friend's abdomen and into the tangle of sheets beside them, then lies flat over him, hiding his face on the curve of his neck and making the Bavarian laugh. "Come on, hm. You in me, me in you...? With you I'm happy either way, so it's your choice."Lukas takes his time before answering, leaving lazy kisses on Basti's shoulder and neck as he tries to think. Bad thoughts cross his mind - distant ingrained notions of  _this is wrong_  and the persistent fear that any further steps in the direction they're going will be the one to irreparably break this thing they have, which just so happens to be one of the most cherished relationships in his life. And yet all evidence seems to point to the contrary: no big switch turned and made Basti, his best friend in the whole world Basti, someone  _other_  than who he always has been to him; something  _more_ , perhaps, but what has always been there is still there.And although he couldn't stop his mind from associating anal sex with all sorts of unpleasant experiences, well, so many people seemed to like it that it couldn't be  _all_  bad. In the end, Basti's words that he would be happy with him either way were all the reassurance Lukas needed."I think me in you", he mumbles timidly against Basti's skin, hoping his friend doesn't think of him as some kind of coward for choosing what feels like the easier role. But Basti just chuckles, and Lukas releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding."You in me it is, then." Then they're back to sluggish kisses and lazy handjobs, and it's almost like Basti's trying to distract Lukas from the big-deal situation hanging over his head. It works only until Basti reaches for one of the pillows beside them and lifts his hips, pushing his cock against Lukas' belly, and places the pillow under himself. Somehow the simple gesture makes Lukas feel very naive - and it must be showing on his face, or maybe Basti's just that good at reading him, because Basti frowns at him and lets out a concerned (maybe just a tad exasperated) "What now?".Lukas hopes his skin is already uniformly flushed due to arousal, because he's positive that he's blushing and it makes him feel like an idiot. But he goes for openness, anyway - if they're going to do this, really going to do  _this_ , then they'd better not hide anything from each other."I should warn you I've never done this before."And then he blushes even more, because Basti looks at him as if he were a fucking baby seal and  _god_ , it's equal parts annoying and endearing and Lukas feels compelled to hide his face on Basti's shoulder again. "Anal, you mean?" Lukas nods, unable to hold back a shy smile against the Bavarian's skin. "Well, I've never been on the receiving end, so this is gonna be new for us both."They share a laugh, then Lukas lifts his head.  They look into each other's eyes, smiling, Lukas' fingers threading through Basti's short blonde locks. "It's ok," Basti tells him, caressing his back with soft, reassuring touches. "We'll work it out."He gives Lukas a quick kiss, then reaches for the lube, mumbling something about not understanding a word of what's on the package and something else about making someone buy it as a bet, but Lukas doesn't heed it much thought; instead, he focuses on touching Basti - his face, his chest, his cock, his legs, all of him. God only knows when or  _if_  this will ever happen again, so he wants to enjoy it - and he wants Basti to enjoy it - as much as they possibly can.Basti coats his own fingers with the lube and nudges his hand down between his legs, prepping himself with a calm confidence that Lukas can't tell if it comes from experience or if he's just making it up as he goes. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, relaxing under his own touch, until Lukas grows tired of being a spectator."Let me?" he whispers in Basti's ear, moving Basti's hand away and offering his own fingers for the blonde to apply some of the lube. Basti doesn't laugh or joke about it, a sign that his arousal is building up.He slides a wet finger behind Basti's balls, down between his buttcheeks, and lingers at the entrance, circling the hole without any greed, not so secretly enjoying Basti's frustrated hip jerks and little groans. He finally allows the tip of his middle finger in just to the first joint, then stops right after when Basti reaches for his wrist."In a hurry, are we", he smirks against the midfielder's lips, brushing his hand off and placing it over his cock instead. "Touch yourself.""Bossy", Basti mumbles as his hand moves up and down the length of his erection, eyes still closed, but he's smirking too."You like it", Lukas says, and this time his finger goes all the way in; Basti's "I  _do_ " is broken by a startled, pleased gasp, and a wide grin spreads on his lips as he also spreads his thighs more and picks up the pace. Lukas ruts against Basti's thigh, enjoying the friction against his skin as he feels the tightness ease around his middle finger."More?", he offers, again in a whisper; the midfielder nods enthusiastically, a frown of concentration on his face as he strokes his own cock. "Hang on, let me just..." He slips his finger out of Basti and changes his position, choosing to lean against the other man's left side with his head propped up on his right arm (the left arm was starting to hurt from holding his weight). His left thigh finds its way between Basti's sprawled ones, and Basti helpfully coats the middle and ring fingers of Lukas' left hand, then guides it to the point of interest down between his legs, shuddering at the cold touch of Lukas' fingertips against his sensitive skin."You're in for a great time trying to-- oh God, that's good, fuck", Basti cuts himself with a pleasured sigh, one hand clutching the sheets while the other grips Lukas' thigh. The Gunner huffs a laugh against his ear, which doesn't help any with his struggle to finish his sentence. "You're fucked trying to put on a condom with both hands slippery like that, but fuck, I'm--  _fuck,_  I'm not complaining."Lukas kisses his cheek and grins, fingers scissoring inside him, trying to find again the point that made Basti jump and raise his eyebrows when he applied some pressure. "You could put it on me," he suggests, following the rhythm of his fingers as he ruts against Basti's hips. "Think that'd be really hot.""Damn, Luki, just fuck me already," Basti grunts with a shaky breath, "you keep saying that kind of stuff, I'll be all over before we even get to it."He readjusts so that both of his legs are between Basti's, the head of his cock glistening with precome and residual lube as it bumps against his wrist. Basti searches blindly for the package of condoms among the bed sheets as Lukas pours kisses over his face, his jaw and neck down to his collarbones, fingers still buried as far as they can go inside him. Lukas only removes them and sits up on his heels once Basti rips open the condom package and holds the little round thing between his trembling fingers, holding it against the light to determine to which side it unrolls. Basti's face is completely focused as he places the condom on the tip of Lukas' hard dick and pushes it down the shaft slowly, taking his time to torture him just like Lukas tortured him a few minutes earlier. When it's done, he looks up into Lukas' eyes and positions the striker's cock so that the head is brushing against his sensitive entrance.Lukas holds the base of his dick for better guidance and pushes in slowly, feeling Basti's body resist him. Basti bites his lower lip, sucks air between his teeth and mumbles a pained " _fuck_ ", eyes shut."Ok?", Lukas asks, worried. He got only the head in and isn't going any further unless his friend gives him the green lights.Basti grimaces, his whole body taut with tension, then shakes his head slightly. "Just hang on.""We can try something else if you want," because it  _is_  a bit frustrating to have your dick already in a hole and then have to take it out, sure, but Lukas doesn't think he can go on with Basti looking like that. "We can try another position. Or just, you know. Do something else." He could... he thinks he could probably try to suck Basti. Yeah, sure, maybe he has no idea how  _that_  would work, but it would surely be easier than anal sex. At least Lukas knows how  _he_  likes to be sucked, for one." _No,_ " Bastian whines, sighing and clicking his tongue, then licking his lips in frustration. "I want it like this. More lube? That shit dries up pretty fast."Lukas rolls his eyes, then pulls out the head of his cock (Basti lets out another sigh, but this time it's relief). "Stubborn," he mumbles against Basti's lips, reaching for the tube of KY and applying generous amounts of it over his cock and Basti's hole. Then he pushes Basti's folded legs closer to his torso, exposing his ass more to make way for him. "If it's still bad we take a break, ok? Just, I don't know, try to relax.""You're not helping, idiot," Basti laughs and lifts his upper body awkwardly to seal Lukas' lips with a quick kiss, then helps guide him back to the point they were before. It's much slipperier this time, so even though it's a bit more of a struggle to actually get it in, it takes Lukas some more willpower (and muscle control) to keep from sliding much further than the head at once. Basti jumps a little and breathes in quickly through the nose, then holds his breath for a moment."Ok?" Lukas asks once again.This time Bastian nods timidly, looking at him. "Just-- just take it slow."Lukas looks back at him tenderly, then rubs the tip of his nose against Basti's. "Ok."With all the care he can muster, he slides in just a couple of inches further, paying attention to his friend's reactions; he places one of his hands between their bodies, the palm against Basti's balls, his fingers helping him measure how far he's good to go. He pulls out almost all the way then pushes back just as much as he had before, setting up a rhythm in a sequence of short, shallow thrusts so that both of them can grow used to the unfamiliar tightness.Basti's hands roam over Lukas' arms and back, restless. He looks down at their joined bodies with a small grunt, then throws his head back. Lukas takes it as a cue that he's doing well, and slides a little further in."Dude, how many miles is your dick," Basti chuckles, eyes closed, as he brings one of his hands to join Lukas' at the base of the striker's erection."You said 'take it slow'," Lukas argues, sighing against the wet spot where he'd previously been kissing Basti's neck. "You're pretty tight down there, bunny. Don't wanna hurt you."Basti rubs his face against Lukas' cheek, seeking his mouth; he sucks the striker's lower lip before murmuring, "I can take a little pain. 'S good. Bring it on, baby." And to prove his point he brings his knees further up, freeing his hand before crossing his ankles over Lukas' butt and pushing his heels down.Lukas tries as he might to look angry at Basti for making it sound like he's proving a point or something - but it's just so  _Basti_  of him to make everything into a challenge, it wouldn't be him if he didn't do it. Plus that new configuration of limbs makes it nearly impossible for him not to go the rest of the way in, up to the hilt; he still manages to go slow, at least, amazed at the sensation but still worried about Basti's discomfort." _Whoa_ ", the Bavarian breathes out, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline."Yeah", Lukas nods. He thinks he might be grinning like an idiot, but it's hard to focus on anything other than how tight Basti feels around him. "Hurts?""It's..." Basti's clearly finding it hard to concentrate enough to form a clear sentence too. He licks his lips and kneads on Lukas' buttocks with his toes, encouraging him to move and adjusting his hips in circular motions. "It's weird. Good kind of weird, I mean. I like it, I guess.""You  _guess_?", Lukas thrusts a little more forcefully. The Bavarian throws his head back into the pillow and gasps in agreement. "Then you'll be sure by the time I'm done with you."

 

" _God_ ," Basti laughs, his breathing becoming more labored as Lukas picks up his pace. "If this football thing falls through you sh--  _oh_ \-- should try  _porn_ , that was--" The sentence remains unfinished, cut short by a series of expletives and a moan loud enough their whole floor must have heard it. Basti's practically meowing after each thrust at this point, and Lukas takes it as an indicative that he's doing something very right, because the Bastian he knows wouldn't be caught dead doing that if he could help it. Before their next-door neighbor could come knocking on their door to complain about the noise, the forward grabs Basti by the nape and shuts his mouth with a hungry kiss, silencing his own obscene sounds as well.

 

Lukas goes on pounding into him faster and harder until he's on the brink of exploding with pleasure; then, conjuring up all his self-restraint, he halts the pistoning motion of his hips and raises his torso just enough to take hold of Basti's cock. "Close?", he breathes out, jerking him off vigorously while maintaining his own erection buried deep inside Basti. The midfielder can only nod briskly before the orgasm takes over him; he holds his breath, his whole body going taut and hands grabbing whatever part of Lukas they can reach, and comes spluttering warm semen over his abdomen. The waves of his climax are enough to bring Lukas over the edge, and he growls against Basti's shoulder, contracting his buttocks in a last sequence of erratic thrusts.

 

He slides out, panting, and lets his body fall not quite on top of Basti's, trying to avoid making a Rorschach test out of the splatter of come on Basti's belly. It takes him a moment to remember how to breathe properly, one more to remember his own name, and by the time he's established they are still in Rio de Janeiro and have indeed won the World Cup Basti interrupts his thought process to announce, "Ok, I need to pee."

 

"So  _romantic_ ," Lukas rolls his eyes and rolls off of him, holding the condom around the base of his now softened penis to avoid making a mess. By his side, Basti's looking at his own mess with a mix of disgust and fascination, trying to contain it with his hands and prevent it from dripping into the sheets as he gets up from the bed.

 

"You've always been the romantic one," Basti winks at him and offers to throw the condom away as he waddles towards the bathroom; from there, he adds, "And a pornstar in bed, once you get things rolling. I can't say I'm  _surprised_ , but..."

 

"You were happy to find out," Lukas finishes. He turns off the light and pulls up the bed covers as he sprawls on the bed, feeling cold as the air conditioner chills out the thin layer of sweat that covers his whole body.

 

"More than happy to find out," he hears Basti saying over the sound of the water running.

 

The Bavarian doesn't take long in the bathroom. His hair and face are wet and his hands smell like hotel soap when he comes back and collapses face down beside Lukas on the bed. He makes a pillow out of Lukas' shoulder and throws an arm over his midriff, sighing contentedly as the Gunner kisses his forehead and runs his fingers over Basti's blond hair.

 

At that moment Lukas catches sight of the tattoo on his own right wrist, and his sigh is troubled, not content.

 

Bastian notices this and looks up at Lukas' face, concern written all over his features. "Regrets?"

 

Lukas glances between the tattoo and Bastian's eyes. " _Regret_ is a strong word,"he concedes. "Just... Catholic guilt, I guess." The midfielder snorts against his clavicle, but says nothing. "I  _am_  still married, you know. Not sure if I'll still be when we get back home, but..." He stops himself. His relationship with Monika is the last thing he'd want to discuss after having extramarital sex with his best friend, and one doesn't have to be a genius to guess Bastian feels the same way.

 

Still, the midfielder traces the letters inked on Lukas' skin absent-mindedly, both of them deep in their own thoughts. Then, suddenly, he perks up and stares at Lukas, alarmed: "You didn't leave Louis sleeping unattended in your room, did you?"

 

Lukas cracks up at the unexpectedness of Bastian's question. "What kind of lame ass father do you think I am?", he shakes his head, still laughing as Bastian settles back against his shoulder. "He wanted to have a sleepover with Miro's twins. I think his wife hates me now.""Shut up, he's the sweetest kid. If anything it's the twins who are corrupting his young mind." They share a small laugh as Bastian tightens his grip around Lukas' waist and tangles their legs together.It still feels like there's a remaining elephant in the room, however, and Lukas can't stop himself from asking. "Shouldn't you go be with Sarah? I thought she'd sleep here with you tonight.""She said I should 'enjoy one last night with the boys'. And I know when she says ' _the boys_ ' she actually means you," he clarifies. "I told you, she's cool with this. We have an open thing. Knowing that nerd, she's probably waiting to take photos of the sunrise at the beach."

 

If he notices a distant tinge of sadness in Bastian's words, Lukas vows not to mention it. "Do you love her?", he asks instead, keeping his own voice neutral.

 

Basti smirks up at him. "Jealous?"" _No_ ," Lukas asserts with a pout, but as the other continues to look at him with an infuriating half-grin, he concedes, mumbling, "A little bit. Shut up.""Well, she's hot, for starters" Bastian begins, "Fun to be around. She has her own life, which I think is pretty important." He makes a small pause before continuing, smiling against Lukas' shoulder. "And I guess it doesn't bother her that I'm head over heels in love with my male best friend, so there's that." He looks up, then, a hint of expectation in his eyes as he waits for the Gunner's reaction."She's a keeper." Lukas deadpans, making the midfielder chuckle. "No, really, keep her.""I should, shouldn't I?" Basti snuggles a little closer, yawning. "God, I don't deserve either of you."

 

Lukas considers telling him he deserves that and much more, but when he looks at Basti again, the Bavarian has already passed out, exhaustion from the events of the night finally hitting him fully. It starts to creep into Lukas' mind too, as he ponders whether he still has the energy to retrieve his phone from where it lays amidst his clothes on the floor and then come up with a reasonable hour to set the alarm so they don't lose breakfast, but still manage to catch some shut-eye. _Fuck it, we're world champions_ , he thinks with a smile, then takes one last look at Bastian's serene expression next to him and drifts off into slumber.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **Notes**  ( _or_  "some little nuggets of truth to make my web of lies taste a bit more verisimilar"):
> 
>   * This work owes its existence to the fact that I couldn't pass the opportunity to use a Toy Story reference/Tumblr meme as an actual pig pun for Schweini.
>   * If Schweini has not confiscated Poldi's phone in a Twitter-related intervention at least  _once_  during their stay in Brazil, I'll be profoundly disappointed.
>   * [Strawberry caipirinha recipe.](http://www.frombraziltoyou.org/strawberry-caipirinha-and-many-more/) And yes, of course [they were serving caipirinhas at the party](http://cdn.urbanislandz.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Rihanna-and-Mario-Gotze.jpeg) - on cheap plastic cups, no less. Makes me feel closer to them somehow.
>   * [The Vidigal favela and Morro Dois Irmãos at night.](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ef/Rio_de_janeiro_favela_ipanema_beach_night_2010.JPG) Sheraton Hotel is the large building on the bottom right.
>   * [The news about Hitze back in January](http://www.theguardian.com/football/2014/jan/08/thomas-hitzlsperger-gay-announces-homosexual) (seriously, if you didn't know about this, you live under a rock - one where there are no World Cup slash shippers, either). The other mention of Hitzlesperger is a reference to one of his lines in  _Deutschland: Ein Sommermärchen_.
>   * For visualization, [this is the stairway to](http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/05/2d/6f/7a/praia-do-vidigal.jpg) [Vidigal Beach](http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/05/2d/6f/7a/praia-do-vidigal.jpg) descending from the hotel.
>   * Interestingly, long after I'd already established Poldi's blue mood in the story, I read a comment by a psychologist somewhere saying depression is quite common among high-class athletes, especially after winning an important championship (aka the feeling of "now what?"). And then there was all the transfer talk, and the breakup talk, and I gave myself the sads.
>   * But I'd like to make it clear that about 70% of this fic had already been written by the time the first breakup rumors reached me, so it's neither mine nor Poldi's fault. (In fact, I'll probably hold onto the "Basti and Sarah are polyamorous" theory for as long as it's remotely feasible - and honestly, all these talks about them "breaking up and making up" only add fuel to the fire.)
>   * I trust you know how to use Google Translate to find out what the German word "Ficker" means.
>   * [The numbers thing](http://ladyarse.co.uk/2014/07/fc-koln-break-podolski-promise/).
>   * [The Germans did damage the Cup](http://www.espnfc.com/germany/story/1954884/germany-damage-world-cup-trophy). But apparently it was in Berlin, and they haven't found a culprit. I tried to include a pun about a certain escape Götze, but it ended up on the cutting room floor.
>   * Another thing that ended up on the cutting floor were [Kinesiology tapes](http://www.kttape.com/), which are weird and apparently mostly placebo, but were [very](http://wc2014-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/img/2014_06_22/800/600/2014-06-22T161834Z_1855738348_TB3EA6M1BXSB5_RTRMADP_3_BRAZIL-WORLDCUP.JPG) [much](http://www.dw.de/image/0,,17674723_303,00.jpg) [in vogue](http://www2.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Germany+Victory+Celebration+R45QWYJxPfVl.jpg) during the 2014 FIFA World Cup.
>   * And I was on the  _verge_  of letting Basti make an "All in or nothing" joke  _smack in the middle of intercourse_ , but I figured if it happened I'd have to cut the sex scene short because poor Lukas would probably fall to the floor laughing and the mood would be broken for the rest of the night. (Well, at least nobody said "Just do it", either.)
>   * Also, apparently this fic would have been finished long ago if I could bring myself to write porn while at work.
> 



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